


Victims and Victories

by cleo4u2



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assault, But shit gets real bad, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Stalking, Theres no actual rape, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is an Army Special Forces Captain. Bucky Barnes, former marine sniper, restores and sells old cars in his spare time. They meet one day when Steve is on a run and Bucky is running from his abusive ex. Steve turns out to be exactly what Bucky needs. </p><p>Extra Trigger Warning: Violence and references to past physical, mental, and sexual abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He's Back

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. All errors are my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the characters in this story is named Gabe. I am aware that is also the name of one of the Howling Commndos. Since people love to jump to conclusions, please note that this is a different Gabe, hence Gabe JONES is not tagged as a character in the story. There are no Howling Commndos in this AU, I just like the name.

Bucky had been sure he had lost him this time. Four cities, two states and he had been so _sure_ Gabriel wouldn’t be able to find him in nowhere Fayetteville, North Carolina. The weakness, he knew, was his job. There were only so many places for a guy with his skills to work, only so many ways he knew how to make money. Gabriel Turring must have followed the money, or one of the cars he sold, or _something._  It didn’t matter. Now Bucky had to run again.

It had seemed like a normal morning, just like he had gotten used to after two years feeling safe in the city. Gabriel had found him twice before, but never after this long without any contact. Bucky was finally relaxing, finally starting to have a _life_ , even went on an unsuccessful date. Then he’d found Gabe sitting on the curb outside his office. Life over.

Without hesitation, Bucky had turned and ran. He wasn’t a small guy by any means, but Gabe was a champion MMA fighter, bigger, stronger and a hell of a lot meaner. Also a little crazy and too smart for Bucky’s good. If he was caught, he didn’t stand a chance.

Of course, that meant Gabe caught him.

Jumping back into his car, Bucky managed to get the engine started before Gabe smashed the window and dragged him bodily through the frame. Though his hand was bleeding, the 6’3”, muscle bound psycho slammed Bucky against the side of his '32 Ford Pickup. A second later, his fist slammed across Bucky’s jaw. Pain radiated from the sight of the blow.

He was so fucked.

“Running?” Gabe demands, brown eyes flashing with outrage. “After all the work I had to do to _find_ you and _this_ is how you pay me back? I _love_ you! Don't you know that? Don't you know not to run?”

“Gabe,” Bucky says thickly through his hopefully not broken jaw, “I-I didn’t know it was you, I thought you were-were a robber. Please, we can talk about this.”

“Talk? When you keep running from me? I’m done talking, James. You’re coming home.” Massive hands hold the sides of his head tenderly. It's perverse. “You’ll be happy, you’ll see.”

“No, Gabe, no-”

Bucky shakes his head frantically, remembering the last time Gabe had made him ‘come home’. The bruises, the chains, the locks on all the doors. It had taken everything he had to get away and he knows Gabe won't let it happen twice. If he goes back... No, Bucky would rather die. The way Gabe starts squeezing his head suggests that's a real possibility.

“Hey!”

The masculine voice brakes into Bucky’s thoughts, startling him and Gabe. His ex drops one meaty hand to his chest, securing a fistful of Bucky’s shirt, before looking over at the intruder. Nearly as big as Gabe, tall and muscular in too tight, blue running shorts and a grey Under Armour shirt, he has dark blonde hair, cropped short, and sky blue eyes. A light coat of sweat makes his tanned skin gleam as he stands, hands on hips, at the hood of Bucky’s car. 

“I don’t think he wants to go anywhere with you,” the stranger says calmly, “and I think it’s time you went on your way.”

The hand holding Bucky in place tightens into a fist and Gabe takes a menacing step in the man’s direction.

“This is between me and my boyfriend,” Gabe growls, “So how about you walk away while you still can.”

“Can't do that,” the man says without a second's hesitation.

“Go,” Bucky pleads. Whoever this guy is, he is undeniably gorgeous and brave and Bucky can't  stand the thought of him lying bleeding and broken on the pavement. “Please.”

“That’s not what you asked me to do last night,” the guy says boldly.

At once Bucky is confused and horrified by the insinuation. Gabe lets out a rumbling growl and releases Bucky to step towards the stranger. It’s the perfect opportunity to run, but he can't do it. He hasn’t a clue why this random stranger has insinuated they have had sex, but he knows Gabe will kill him for it. The asshole takes jealousy to a whole other level.

Darting around his terrifying ex, Bucky wishes his hands weren’t shaking as he presses them to Gabe’s huge muscles to prevent further forward progress.

“He’s lying, Gabe. I don’t know this guy from Adam. Come on,” he swallows hard and tries to stop the tremors that are now racking his entire body, “L-let’s go home. Like y-you wanted.”

The effect is not at all what Bucky hoped for.

“You let this fucker touch you!?” Gabe screams.

Another fist flies at Bucky’s face and he's too stunned to try to dodge. This time he collapses, long brown hair obscuring his vision as the world tilts, pain exploding from his cheekbone. Vaguely he can hear more shouting from Gabe and the stranger, then the sounds of fists and elbows and knees meeting flesh. Then footsteps running away, so at least the stranger isn’t dead. It's not much of a consolation since he will be as soon as Gabe remembers him.

A surprisingly gentle hand cups his shoulder and Bucky flinches, covering his face. He's going to die for something he hasn't done and it's completely unfair. Gabe is the reason Bucky hasn’t gotten laid in three long years. He's simply been too afraid to date, or even make friends.

“Hey. "The voice isnt Gabe’s. It's gentle, coaxing, and kind. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Surprised, Bucky looks up to find the stranger looking down at him with beautiful blue eyes brimming with concern. A quick glance shows Gabe to be nowhere in sight and another finds his rescuer is no worse for the encounter.

“Who the hell _are_ you?” Bucky blurts, voice awed.

The stranger laughs.

“I’m Steve. Do you live around here? I’d appreciate it if you’d let me walk you home, help you get cleaned up. Who knows when that guy might be back.”

Fear chases the wonder and lust from Bucky’s mind. He had to start running _now_ , before Gabe can come back and kill them both. He had stashed money in his apartment, in a few banks, and in the garage. With that he can start over somewhere else, figure out some way to keep Gabe from finding him again. Everything he has built here will have to be left behind, but he can try again. Maybe this time he can find some place far enough away.

“Whoa, whoa, hey!" Steve’s voice sounds panicked and Bucky meets his eyes to find the same emotion there. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m not going to let him hurt you again, alright? So let’s just take a deep breath; come on, breathe with me…”

Steve inhales and Bucky makes his lungs copy him. They had grown tight as his terror set in, a panic attack gripping them like a vise. He had hardly noticed, so fucused on the plans he needed to make.

“That’s good,” Steve praises. “You’re safe; just breathe.”

Slowly, Bucky’s breathing returns to normal and the clutching panic subsides to anxious nerves. While he was calming Bucky down, Steve had maneuvered them so he was leaning against the tailgate with the gorgeous man squatting between his legs.

“There we go,” Steve’s voice is still soothing, calm, and Bucky absently wonders how he knew to do all this. “What’s your name?”

“Bucky,” Bucky answers before flushing, “I mean, James. James Barnes. My middle name’s Buchanan. My little sisters- It’s a stupid nickname.”

“No, no,” Steve is smiling now and, good God, what has he done to deserve that smile sent his way? “I like Bucky.” Gabe had hated the nickname. Said it was childish. "Who was that asshole? Ex?”

Bucky nods, licking his lips.

“I have to get away,” he explains hastily, “He’ll find me again and-”

“Sh, it’s okay,” Steve interrupts as Bucky’s voice climbs, “You’re safe. I’m not going to let him hurt you, remember?”

Bucky blinks. It was one thing to be rescued, but Steve can't be around all the time. Surely he knows this.

“He won’t stop,” he tries to explain, “He’ll keep coming until I’m dead, he’s dead, or he’s made me go back with him and I _won’t_. I won’t go back!” His hands grip Steve’s shoulders and he can't remember placing them there. “I’d rather die before I’m his prisoner again.”

“Okay,” Steve says just as calmly as ever. 

It's the look in his eyes, serious and steely, that gets to Bucky. Steve won't let Gabe hurt him again. Bucky shouldn't, but he believes Steve.

“Why?” Bucky hears himself say and immediately wishes he hadn’t as it's so ungrateful. Thankfully, Steve just smiles.

“I don’t like bullies,” Steve says with that same, serious look.  “Now, you got a place nearby we can get you cleaned up? I don’t like the look of that lip.”

“Um, that’s my garage,” Bucky motions toward the two story building he had parked in front of, “There’s a, a washroom…”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his keys and tries to find the one to the door. His hands are shaking terribly and, to his horror, he feels his eyes fill with tears. Then warm hands wrap around his own, as big as Gabe’s, but completely different. Gentle, careful, and, though Bucky doesn't know how he knows, willing to pull away the moment Bucky needs.

“It’s okay,” Steve promises again. One hand takes the keys from Bucky, but the other links their fingers together. “I promise, Bucky, you won’t have to go back with him. You _don’t_ know me from Adam, but I won’t let him hurt you.”

God help him, Bucky believes it. He nods and is rewarded with another smile.

“Alright, come on,” Steve pulls his hand free and leans forward. Sliding his arm beneath Bucky, he hauls him to his feet and helps him walk to the garage. He tries three keys before finding the right one, pushes open the door, then promptly locks it behind them. The door is glass, but it makes Bucky feel safer to have the bolt engaged.

“Code for the s-security system is 32557,” Bucky grits out. His shaking is only getting worse, making his teeth chatter. He isn't so far gone he can't realize it is the alarm system that made Steve’s rescue possible. If Gabe had been able to, he would have broken in and insured there were no witnesses to their ‘reunion’.

Steve types in the code, ensuring the cops don't come to investigate a break in.

“L-last door, on the l-left,” Bucky tells Steve and the man helps him down the tasteful hallway, past his office, to the bathroom. His clients are all wealthy, expecting his offices to be far nicer than the usual garage waiting room and mechanic’s office. While Bucky himself has little talent with decorating, he’d found a fairly competent man to take care of the details for him. After painting the entryway and hallway a blue-grey and hanging framed landscapes at equal intervals, the designer had completely changed the look of the place. His office and bathroom had been overhauled as well, though the later was Bucky’s favorite. Guests didn’t need a full shower with rotating nozzles, but after a long day working under a car it was a Godsend to be able to get clean before even walking out the door.

“Useful,” is Steve’s comment as he eyes the shower before easing Bucky to the floor next to it. With Bucky settled, he goes to the nearby standing sink. “Nice place you got here.”

“Thanks,” Bucky manages through his chattering teeth.

“You own it yourself, or just work here?’

“I-it’s mine.”

Wrapping his arms around himself, Bucky shudders from cold. It shouldn't be too cold inside; he didn't have the AC on and it's Spring. Steve returns to his side, crouching down, and frowns at him. He doesn't like how cold Bucky is either.

“Cold?” he asks, though the answer is obvious, as he brings a wet paper towel to Bucky’s lip, cleaning off the blood.

Nodding, Bucky is again struck by how gentle Steve is. The dabbing stung, but there was just the right amount of pressure to keep from adding pain. Gabe had tried to clean him up after a fight once and it had hurt almost as much as the beating had.

“I think you’re going into shock and we need to put a stop to it,” Steve says and Bucky finds himself fascinated by the perfect bow lips. He is only distracted from mapping every curve when Steve lifts his legs, draping them over his thighs while simultaneously easing Bucky onto his back. “That’s good. Just relax. You’re safe; he’s not going to hurt you again.”

“You’re like an angel,” Bucky hears himself say. “My own guardian angel. Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

If Bucky’s mind had been working on all cylinders, the line would have made him cringe. It likely would never have come out of his mouth at all. Luckily Steve chuckles, his beautiful smile spreading over his lips. Bucky wants to make him laugh like that again and again just so he can keep seeing it.

“No, it didn’t hurt,” Steve teases. “You fix cars?”

“Not exactly,” Bucky sighs, feeling warmer where he touches Steve and colder where he doesn't. The warmth seems to be winning at least. “I rebuild them. Ground up, frame's sometimes all I start with. I think that’s how he found me...Only so many people do what I do...and I had to keep my clients…”

“So you built that truck out there yourself?” Steve says, ignoring his statement about Gabe altogether.

“My baby- Oh God, the window! That _bastard!_ I’ll...I’ll _kill_ him!”

Steve rewards the declaration with another beautiful laugh.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Bucky hears his mouth say. “Fucking Hell, what’s the matter with me?”

“Shock,” Steve replies with warmth in his voice. At least he isn’t insulted by Bucky’s obvious, and crass, come ons.

“I’m really sorry. Not that you’re hot, because you really are and that’s nothing anyone can be sorry for, but I’m usually much more charming than this.”

“I think you’re incredibly charming,” Steve replies with a smile as wonderful to view as his laughter.

Bucky thinks he's drowning. He is growing warmer by the moment, the tremors fading and his mind clearing. Now he finds himself with his legs in the lap of a beautiful, Greek God. A man who has rescued him, who he has flirted with shamelessly and who has returned his flirtations. This is impossible; Gabe has surely broken him so no other man would want him again.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m making a complete fool of myself,” Bucky groans.

“You’re feeling better, then,” Steve replies easily. His hand squeezes Bucky’s calf and damn didn’t that feel good?

“H-how did you do it?” Bucky forces himself to ask. “Get Gabe to leave me alone? He’s an MMA fighter, you know? Never seen him run away from anyone before.”

“I’m pretty good in a fight myself,” Steve replies.

Carefully Bucky eases himself up, though he is reluctant to lose the warmth of Steve’s body. The man is a veritable furnace.

“Evasive,” he teases. “That’s alright, I like a man of mystery.”

Steve’s smile fades. Getting up, he takes Bucky’s arm and hauls him to his feet. Bucky doesn't protest; he's feeling the need to run again too keenly.

“Now you’re feeling a bit better,” he says gently, “I’ll need you to tell me as much as you can about Gabe. I need to know, or I cannot protect you properly. Otherwise, I wouldn't ask.”

Bucky’s smile falls as well. There is no doubt Steve is right, but he doesn't want to talk about his relationship with Gabe. He _never_ wants to, is disgusted with himself and ashamed as well.

“He... I left him about three years ago-”

“Three?” Steve repeats, obviously surprised. “Guy’s persistent.”

“Insane,” Bucky corrects, shoving his hands through his hair, “The first time I left him, he-”

Bucky swallows hard and has to look down at his hands. Only his therapist’s ever heard this story before and he’s terrified Steve will say it’s all his fault. It isn’t, he _knows_ it isn’t, but knowing that doesn’t keep him from being afraid. Hearing someone say he led Gabe on, or that he deserved what was done to him, will destroy him. He knows it will.

Maybe Steve knows as well because he takes Bucky by the elbow and leads him from the bathroom. They go through the door that leads to his office, the other door has a window that shows it leads to the rest of the garage. Steve helps him into his chair and pulls up one of the pair meant for clients alongside before wrapping his large hands about both of Bucky’s.

“What did he do the first time you left him?” Steve prompts gently.

“He…” Bucky swallows and stares at their hands. He makes himself say, “I was in the hospital for two days. Broke my arm, some ribs, punctured a lung...Told the cops I was mugged. I was- was still on the painkillers when he took me home, signed me right out of the hospital, though I begged the docs not to let him. They just... smiled and it was all pity. Dunno what he said to them…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says gently, his thumb running over Bucky’s knuckles now, “they never should have let him check you out.”

Bucky can’t say thanks, so he clears his throat and continues.

“He put deadbolts on the door, kept the key about his neck so I couldn’t leave. B-bars on the windows,” Bucky’s hands tighten on Steve’s, “and more locks on the- the bedroom- Chains on…”

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Steve murmurs as Bucky stumbles. “There’s no chains, no locks, you have the keys.”

It’s exactly what he needs to hear.

“He’d... punish me when I... didn’t do, or say what he wanted. Went on for... for a few months, before I found a way out. Ran and didn’t look back. I don’t... have any family left, so no one was missing me anyways. Thought I was safe after a month, got careless, and he found me. I ran again, and again, but I thought this time... This time for sure, I mean, it’s been two years…”

“You said he’s an MMA fighter?” Steve prompts, drawing Bucky back on track.

“Yeah, uh, mixed martial arts? He’s got all kinds of awards and trophies and a belt, I think. I never really cared about that stuff, he’s just my type... Bully for me.”

“It’s not your fault; none of it’s your fault,” Steve insists and it doesn't sound patronizing or rehearsed. “You being attracted to him didn’t mean you deserved to be locked up in your own home and…” Bucky ducks his head as Steve hesitates, but doesn’t let go of his hands. “He did, didn’t he? Raped you.”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispers.

Steve’s hands tighten on his abruptly and Bucky looks up in surprise. The once open, warm expression is gone, replaced by a seething anger. He knows without asking that Steve isn’t angry at _him_. It’s... wonderful.

“I’m... I'm okay, now,” Bucky assures and Steve opens his eyes. They’re sceptical, so he smiles. “Fayetteville’s been good for me. I have a therapist; she’s been helping me work through... everything. I’m not... perfect, but I can function like a real person. I even went on a real date last week.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve says, smiling again, “So I have competition.”

Bucky feels himself blush.

“No, it, uh, was a bust.”

Steve’s smile grows and his hands slowly relax on Bucky’s.

“Good. When this is all over, I’ll have to take you out for a drink.”

“Love to, but, uh, ten years sober,” Bucky confesses.

“Really?” Steve asks and looks impressed, which is another point in his favor. “Well, dinner then, or coffee. You drink coffee, right?”

“Live off the stuff,” Bucky says. “Okay, I’m sorry, this is... weird? Right? You just fought off my abusive, stalker ex and he’s going to try to kill me again and now we’re gonna go on a date?”

Steve’s laugh is soothing.

“Yeah, well, my life’s never been normal. Bucky, you don’t have to go on a date with me, okay? I’m going to make sure Gabe leaves you alone, regardless. You just... you flirted with me, I think you’re good looking even with that swelling, and... I’d like to get to know you.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Steve repeats. “Do I need to know anything else?”

“A-about Gabe?” Bucky shakes his head. “I’ve always suspected he’s got some kind of connection to law enforcement, but I’ve no proof of that. He just... gets away with so much crap...”

“Okay,” Steve says bracingly, “So we have options. We can stay here,” Bucky shakes his head again, “we can go to your place-”

“He’ll know where I live by now,” Bucky protests.

“Or I can take you home.”

“Forward, aren’t we, Steve? I don’t even know your last name,” Bucky jokes weakly.

“Rogers,” Steve replies, “Steven Grant Rogers.”

"James Buchanan Barnes,” Bucky responds in kind, even though Steve already knows.

“Alright, now that we’re close, personal friends,” Steve jokes, “Let me take you home.”

“O-okay,” Bucky nods. “Seems like the best plan.”

“You need any medicines, or have any pets we have to worry about?”

Bucky shakes his head.

“No, healthy as a horse and no pets. Couldn’t... bring myself to bring a defenseless animal into this.”

Steve’s hands squeeze Bucky’s again before he gets to his feet once more.

“Home to my place, then,” Steve declares. “Let me clear the outside of the building and then we’ll get going.”

Bucky licks his lips.

“Okay.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, the front door opens and Bucky stares unblinkingly until Steve walks through. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking Gabe would come back, hurt Steve, or just get past him. Seeing him again lets Bucky finally relax; allows the knot in his stomach to unwind. Fucking Gabe; Bucky hasn’t been this anxious in over a year.

“Looks clear,” Steve declares.

Steve moves as if to help Bucky up from his chair, but he's tired of playing the damsel in distress. Before Gabe, he’d never been a victim and he wants Steve to see him as more, too. Holding up a hand, he smiles to sooth any possible sting from his refusal, and stands on his own.

“I wasn’t always this useless, you know?”

“That so?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow and the cutest twist to his lips.

“Five years ago,” Bucky says, following Steve to the door, “I was a Sergeant in the Marines. Back when I wasn’t broken.”

The surprise is bright in Steve’s blue eyes.

“Marines, huh? Well, I won’t hold you bein’ a jar head against you,” Bucky narrows his eyes. “but you’re not broken. Damaged, maybe, but a broken man would let Gabe have his way. You want me to leave you be, so he can swoop back in here and take you 'home’?”

“No!” Bucky exclaims despite himself.

“Alright,” Steve smiles at him. “Then let’s go. My place is just a few clicks from here.”

“A few?” Bucky repeats. “How far do you run?”

“10 miles a day,” Steve says with a grin.

“Jesus,” Bucky breathes.

They were on the street now, Steve conspicuous in all his muscled glory and too tight clothing. His head moves on a swivel, looking left and right, behind them and in front over and over. Blue eyes dart, but it isn’t frantic. Those eyes take in everything, miss nothing, and now that Bucky is looking for it, he _sees_ it. The switch in communication should have clued him in immediately, but it had been subtle. The way Steve moves screams the truth.

“You’re military.” Steve pauses his constant surveillance of the street to meet Bucky’s gaze. “Special forces. Navy? No, _Army._ ”

That half-smirk returns to Steve’s lips.

“Jarhead's smarter than I thought he was.”

“Fuck you,” Bucky laughs, “Army just means you ain’t real a marine yet, you know.”

“Says Uncle Sam’s misguided child,” Steve ribs right back. “So where’d you serve?”

“Iraq, Afghanistan,” Bucky answers. “You?”

“Classified,” Steve replies with a grin.

“Asshole,” Bucky throws back.

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes.

“What are you, five?”

Bucky nods.

“Actual five year old. So is there anything you _can_ tell me?”

“I’m a Captain, stationed out of Fort Bragg.”

“Then you’re 3rd SFGA,” Bucky quickly guesses. Fort Bragg is close and the Army's 3rd special forces group is headquartered there so it's an easy leap.

“Classified,” Steve teases again, but there is more steel in his gaze than before. Yet, after a moment, he just sighs, “From the rest, come the best.”

“Nice motto,” Bucky grins.

“We got some good ones.”

“Do, uh, are you, you know-”

“Spit it out, Buck.”

“Shortening a nickname? Really?”

Steve’s eyes meet his again for a moment, exasperated and _fond_. Well shit, at least he isn’t the only one feeling this attraction.

“Say it,” Steve demands.

Bucky blows out a breath and bites the bullet.

“Are you out? Sexuality wise.”

“My men know, the brass doesn’t need to. Were you?”

“Hell no,” Bucky laughs harshly. “Maybe it’s different for you soldiers, but it wasn’t when I served.”

“It’s hit and miss,” Steve confesses, “but I trust my men with my life. How can I trust them any less with this?”

That makes Bucky smile again, though it's the last of their conversation for the rest of the trip to Steve’s apartment nearly two miles away. Not all that far, but far enough on foot. They don't see a sign of Gabe, but with Steve at his side Bucky isn’t actually afraid. The complex itself is nice, nicer than he had expected. The buildings are two and three stories, brick and wood, painted grey with white trim. Well maintained flower beds still hold colorful blossoms and an old lady walks her dog down a sidewalk.

Steve leads him to a small porch and unlocks the door onto a closet and a stairway.

“Odd layout,” Bucky comments.

Shrugging, Steve motions Bucky to follow him in.

“I like it. Can’t get rained on in here and I can hear anyone coming up these stairs anywhere in the apartment.”

Bucky takes the stairs to the second floor where they open onto an office. It's smallb a laptop plugged into a docking station and a computer chair are the only objects visible. A set of double doors open from the office into the main living room. A single couch, old and a bit battered, sits in front of a nice sized flat screen television. He can see a hallway to his left leading to three closed doors. On the other side of the living room is a patio, dining room and kitchen. The place is well lived in, but clearly not often. DVDs, CDs and a battered PS2 sit on the entertainment center. There's a blender on the kitchen counter. There are no pictures or paintings and few knick-knacks, but the place is neat and tidy. A little too clean, really. Not a home, but somewhere Steve kept his things.

“Nice place,” Bucky offers, shoving his hands in the pockets of the black windbreaker he’d pulled on that morning. Probably the only thing that had kept him getting cut when Gabe yanked him through the broken window. Safety glass isn't as dangerous as normal glass, but it would still leave you bloody.

“It’s functional,” Steve replies as though reading Bucky’s mind. “I’m not here enough to call it home. You hungry?”

“Not really,” Bucky admits with a shrug. “Probably won’t be for a few days.”

“Water, then,” Steve states with that tone officers get when they don't want to be argued with.

Bucky grins wryly.

“Alright,” he agrees, “but tone down the orders there, Cap.”

Steve has the good grace to flush as he retrieves a bottle of water from the bare fridge. Tossing the bottle to Bucky, he keeps one for himself and starts chugging without a reply. That's fine, it gives Bucky a chance to get his first long look at his would-be white knight. Now he can see that Steve is even more built than Bucky had thought, with muscles on muscles, though he isn't overly ripped. He is taller, too, with nicely bronzed skin and long lashes framing his eyes. The running outfit is obscenely tight and, with a jolt of arousal, Bucky realizes he really can see _everything_. Steve has been blessed in all departments.

“Like what you see?”

Lower than he'd heard it before, Steve’s voice breaks through his stupor and embarrassment heats his cheeks. Despite that, he forces himself to meet the man's gaze. What he sees nearly makes him step back. No amusement flickers in those blue eyes, dark now with obvious lust. And when was the last time anyone but Gabe had looked at him like that?

Laughing nervously, Bucky tries to break the tension because he cannot jump into bed with a guy he's just met. No matter how hot he is, or understanding and brave, he just can't. Right?

“Jesus, Rogers, you look like you get about as much sex as I do, which is none in three years.”

“Five,” Steve throws at him.

When he licks his dry lips and Steve’s eyes dart down to stare, Bucky’s knees go weak. Steve hasn't moved from the kitchen, though, and Bucky isn't sure if he's grateful or disappointed.

“I'm really not the kind of guy who goes home with strangers and sleeps with them.”

Now Steve moves, striding from behind the kitchen counter to Bucky. It's an effort not to back up, to hold his ground until Steve is right _there_. Their chests brush, breath mingles and Bucky can see gold and green flakes in Steve’s eyes. Slowly, as if he thinks Bucky will bolt, Steve lifts a hand and cups Bucky’s cheek.

“I'm not the kind of guy who takes advantage of someone in a bad situation,” Steve says.

Then they're kissing and Bucky doesn't know who leaned that last little bit further, but it doesn't matter. They're kissing and Steve tastes like mint and summer. He kisses like he knows running his tongue over Bucky’s lower lip makes his knees shake and nipping it will make him moan. It would be embarrassing, except Bucky sucks on Steve’s tongue and now he's moaning too.

It's with a monumental effort that Bucky pulls away.

“I can’t,” he gasps against Steve’s lips and just like that, the man is holding him without trying to kiss him any more. "I'm sorry."

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Steve’s lips brush his jaw.

Bucky groans. His pants are too tight now and he knows Steve is just as hard. The evidence is pressed against his hip.

“I want to, but I-”

“You don't have to explain,” Steve interrupts again.

“Shut up, yeah?” Bucky laughs. “I want to. I want… When we've dealt with Gabe. When I can move on because I know he won't come for me again.”

“We?” Steve repeats because of course it's all he heard.

“You think I'm just gonna sit tight at your place and wait for him to go back to Brooklyn?”

“You're from Brooklyn?” Steve seems far too excited by this fact. Bucky ignores him.

“I do have a job, a business to care for if... If I'm not running,” Steve’s thumb slips under his shirt and caresses his hip; it feels like encouragement, “then I can't be gone more than a day. You planning on keeping me alive, or protecting me? Because you destroy my business-”

Steve cuts Bucky off by kissing him. It's definitely the best way anyone has shut him up. He moans softly to express his appreciation.

“You'll stay here today,” Steve says against his lips in between kisses, “Tomorrow, you're getting a new employee.”

“Don't you have work?”

“I'm on extended medical leave,” Steve explains and Bucky has to resist asking why. “You don't go out of my sight until we come home again. Here, though we can stop by your place for a bag.”

Swallowing hard, Bucky has to take a step back. Looking into Steve’s eyes he asks quietly, “And what happens if I want to leave; if I don't want to stay here?”

At first the question clearly throws Steve, but he's aware of Bucky’s tone enough to know the question shouldn't be laughed off or dismissed. Bucky actually watches the moment Steve connects the question to Gabe, to when Bucky was a prisoner, and his face softens. It really shouldn't make his heart beat so fast to see sadness in Steve’s eyes, but no one has understood him so well so soon after meeting him.

“If you honestly can't bring yourself to stay, you say so and you can go,” Steve says without a hint of mockery. “You're not my prisoner and I'm not your Captain so you don't have to do anything I say. We both know what happens if-”

It's Bucky’s turn to kiss someone silent. It's better from this side of things.

They spend nearly a half hour making out like teenagers on Steve’s couch. Bucky suspects they would have done so longer, except Steve’s stomach rumbles audibly in the otherwise quiet apartment. He sits back, laughing because of the sound and because now Steve is blushing.

“Didn't think you SFG guys were allowed to blush,” Bucky teases.

“Shut up,” Steve grumbles as he stands up. “You hungry?”

Bucky doesn't answer immediately, watching the man's ass in his tight shorts as he walks into the kitchen.

“Depends. What do you have? That fridge looked pretty empty before.”

“I am do to go to the grocery store,” Steve says as he opens the fridge. After a pause, he shuts it again and turns around. “Maybe take out. Chinese?”

Bucky laughs like Gabe isn't back and he isn't staying in a stranger's home for protection.

“Chinese sounds good.”


	2. The Broken Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta'd because I don't understand that stuff. All errors are my own.

The Chinese Steve orders is from a place a little down the road. It's delicious and oily and definitely not what Bucky normally consumes. They eat their way through $40 worth of white cartons without coming up for air. It's weirdly domestic and Bucky enjoys it too much despite the lack of conversation. Or maybe because of it. He's never enjoyed small talk when his mouth is better spent chewing.

After they eat, Steve takes a shower, leaving Bucky with the T.V. The second he shuts his bedroom door, Bucky is on edge. There's no way Gabe could know where he is, but he watches the open office doors as often as the episode of Law and Order he finds running. He's not quite sure what it is about Steve that makes him feel so safe, but the effect is undeniable. Honestly, Bucky isn't sure whether his reaction is pathetic or not. Steve did save his life, he's got a great sense of humor, can clearly handle himself in a fight, and kisses like a God, but he has to sleep, or let his guard down at some point. No one is infallible.

Nevertheless, Bucky can relax once Steve comes out of the bathroom, fully dressed in jeans and a blue striped Polo. His hair is wet, droplets leaving trails down his neck that Bucky wants to trace with his tongue. When he looks up to find Bucky watching him, he lights up like Bucky is a Christmas present and not the worst kind of unexpected company.

“I really can't figure out why you're helping me,” Bucky confesses.

“Still stuck on that, huh?” Steve asks as he opens a closet in the office and digs out a black bag. “Can't just be out of the goodness of my heart?”

“World doesn't work that way,” Bucky sighs, pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “I don't want to be ungrateful, I would probably be dead without you, but-”

“It's too good to be true,” Steve finishes as he sets the bag on the coffee table, “I have to have an ulterior motive.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles, “Is mind reading one of those officer skills they teach you lot?”

Steve grins.

“No, it just makes sense. I'd think the same thing, really.”

From the bag, Steve pulls a shoulder holster, a handgun, three clips, and several boxes of ammunition. He drops onto the couch at Bucky’s right and starts loading the clips and organizing the ammunition like it's perfectly normal. Like Steve doesn't think he's going to have to kill someone for Bucky. All Bucky does is watch, admiring Steve’s long fingers as they work, because _he_ thinks someone has to die before this will be over.

As Steve tucks the extra clips into their places in the shoulder holster, Bucky says, “You never answered my question.”

A line furrows between Steve’s eyes. Bucky wants to smooth it away, but can't justify the affectionate gesture. Then he thinks, _Fuck it,_ and brushes his thumb over the wrinkle. Steve looks up when he does, relaxing and leaning into the touch as his hands still. It occurs to Bucky then that he's never seen Steve stop moving before.

“Why?” Bucky asks softly.

“My mom,” Steve hesitates, starts over, “My dad... She didn't make it out of the hospital after she left the first time.”

Bucky’s heart squeezes like a vice. There's so much pain in those blue eyes, loss and regret. It all makes sense now. Bucky is Steve’s second chance to do things right.

Taking his silence for reproach, Steve cups Bucky’s cheek and pulls him close.

“I will not let him hurt you,” he says in earnst.

Bucky smiles, tracing his fingers over Steve brow, around his eye, and over his cheek.

“No, you won't,” he reassures them both.

Something warm and bright flares to life in Steve’s eyes and Bucky has to sit back.

For another long moment, Steve watches him before returning to the task at hand. In no time, the two spare clips and handgun are tucked into Steve’s shoulder holster. The rest of the ammunition is tucked back into the black bag. When he puts it back in the office closet, he returns pulling on a black coat that's been cut to hide the holster perfectly. Bucky is impressed and that's not an easy feat.

“You'd look better in navy,” he says by way of compliment.

“Black is simple,” Steve replies.

Bucky gets to his feet to back the taller man against the door jam. He frames his eyes with his hands, pressing palms gently to Steve’s cheeks.

“Black steals the color from your eyes,” he murmurs and this is only partially an excuse to get his hands on Steve again. “Navy, any blue really, would make them brighter and contrast your hair.”

Steve is blushing and leaning heavily on the wall, but he doesn't seem to want Bucky to know the affect he's having.

“I thought you were a mechanic and a sniper, not a fashion designer.”

Brushing his thumbs over the swell of Steve’s cheekbones and down over his strong, masculine jaw, Bucky smirks.

“I can be those things and know when a man would look killer in a suit.”

“I hear I clean up well,” Steve says breathlessly.

Leaning close to start another make out session, Bucky murmurs, “I'd like to see that,” against Steve’s lips. Before he can close the last millimeter, the door down the stairs bangs open. The sound is like a gunshot as it echos up the stairwell and Bucky automatically jerks away from Steve.

In a heartbeat, the .38 SIG Sauer semiautomatic tucked away so recently is in Steve’s hand. He sights down the hallway, prepared to take the head off of anyone who dares come around the corner. Bucky hovers behind him, unarmed and useless if the way his heart is slamming into his ribs is any indication. He tries to remember to keep breathing evenly, but his training has long deserted him where Gabe is concerned. It's all he can do to keep it together as they listen to footsteps climbing the stairs towards them.

A head of brilliant, red hair comes into sight and Bucky can breath again. Steve drops the sights of the gun, flicks the safety back on, and is returning the weapon to its holster as the striking woman rounds the lower ledge and catches sight of them. Green eyes framed by shoulder length hair and striking cheekbones take in Steve, his jacket and gun, and she pauses for a moment before continuing her climb. Bucky looks to Steve and the SFG Captain looks anything but pleased to see the woman, or the brown bag of groceries she has tucked under one arm.

“If I'd known there was a party, I would have bought you more food, Rogers,” she says flippantly.

“Ever hear of a phone, Nat?” Steve snaps back.

Not wanting Steve to fight with his friend - who else would have a key and not blink twice at seeing a gun? - over him, Bucky reaches out to take Steve’s sleeve between his fingers. The Captain's shoulders ease down an inch. Nat’s eyes take it in and both her eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Well, I sent you two texts,” the woman says, not commenting on the touch as she pushes past them and heads to the kitchen to unload her supplies, “I know how you just _love_ to shop, so I thought you'd be in need of groceries. Looks like I'm not wrong either.”

“Thanks, Nat,” Steve sighs, his expression creased with guilt for his greeting. “Um, this is Bucky Barnes. Bucky, Natasha Romanov.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bucky says politely.

Following into the kitchen, he stops at the island separating the kitchen and dining room. Three unpadded, wooden stools are tucked beneath the built in bar and he pulls one out to sit on. To his surprise, Steve joins him. What doesn't surprise him is that he chooses to sit between Bucky and the door.

“Is Bucky the reason for the friendly greeting?” she asks like she's inquiring after the weather.

Steve glances at Bucky and he feels a wave of affection for the man that he doesn't just spill his secrets.

After a nod from Bucky to go ahead, Steve says, “An ex of Bucky’s isn't taking no for an answer. Saw them on my run; he broke a car window with his fist and hauled Buck through it. I made him change his mind about sticking around and here we are.”

Natasha must know about Steve’s mother because there's no change in the pace of her fridge stacking. No surprise at all.

“What's the ex’s name?”

At his side, Steve let's out an oddly relieved breath, so Bucky says, “Gabriel Turring. MMA champion.”

That makes Natasha stop and look at him, her expression exasperated.

“You say that like we should give a damn.”

Steve laughs, but tries to calm himself when he sees Bucky doesn't understand the joke.

“Nat is on my team. Best infiltration and hand-to-hand expert I've ever met.”

“Is she better than you?” Bucky asks, curious as well as teasing.

“That's Classified,” Steve replies.

Natasha snorts, which answers the question.

“Kick his ass, huh?” Bucky asks her with a grin.

Grinning, she shuts the fridge and comes over to lean on the other side of the island from them.

“Every time,” she says without any bravado. The look in her eyes is pure steel so he believes her. There are few women in any branch of the Special Forces, so he already knows not to underestimate her skills or willpower.

“Why’d you join the SFG?” Bucky asks.

Natasha grins and it's a little terrifying.

“I was told I wouldn't make it.”

“Which was stupid,” Steve says, “Even beyond the sexism, she's a crack shot, can smash any guy into the ground, and knows her way around computers.”

“I also speak multiple languages,” Natasha chirps.

“Which ones?” Bucky asks.

“Russian, Romanian, Persian and Hindi.”

“Russian, Arabic, and Kurdish, myself,” Bucky says to the surprise of both Steve and Natasha. The later looks to Steve and raises her eyebrows in approval.

“Cap knows Spanish,” she says, obviously teasing.

“I have you and Tony, I don't need to understand more languages,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes.

“Tony is…?” Bucky prompts.

“Classified,” Steve says.

Natasha apparently doesn't care because she says, “Our over caffeinated genius. He speaks something like 36 different languages and loves to blow shit up. We've all got some demo training, but Tony can do the math on that shit in his sleep.”

“Nat,” Steve groans, rubbing his temple, “you really shouldn't be talking about this.”

“What's the big deal?” Natasha says, shrugging her shoulder. “He's military. Jar head, right?”

The last she directs to Bucky. He's surprised, but nods.

“What gives it away?”

“I'm good at reading people,” she says. It's an answer while not being one, but Bucky doesn't think it will do any good to push.

Steve says, “Marine Scout Sniper,” like he's bragging about Bucky.

Natasha laughs at him.

“God, Rogers. Well, for what it's worth, I like him. Just don't get in over your head without calling us in for backup, okay? I'll email you what I find on Gabriel.”

Pushing off the counter, she hugs Steve and surprises Bucky again by hugging him as well. It's odd, but nice, just like everything else he's experienced with Steve thus far. Then she waltzes back out the door and Bucky is left bemused in her absense.

“So,” Steve says nervously, “that's Natasha.”

“I liked her,” Bucky says.

“Yeah?” Steve grins and it's obviously in relief. “She's actually my best friend.”

Bucky lets out a low whistle.

“You telling me I've moved in, met the best friend, and let you join my business all within a few hours of meeting you? We might be moving to fast here, Stevie.”

The words are meant to be a joke, but the way Steve looks at him tells Bucky he's not taking it that way. Looking down, biting his lip, Steve looks like a kid about to ask a girl out for the first time. It makes Bucky nervous right along side him and he doesn't have a clue what Steve’s thinking. Was it too much, acknowledging how crazy this whole thing is?

“Would that be a bad thing?” Steve asks quietly.

Bucky’s heart slams against his rib cage, but he makes himself reach for Steve. Taking the man's chin, he turns his face so their eyes meet. The light blue gaze is so vulnerable, so open, and it's breathtaking. There's not a hint of guile or manipulation there. Bucky’s heart feels too big for his chest. He's falling, hard, and so, so fast. This can't be healthy.

Thumb caressing Steve’s cheek, Bucky nods once, even as he swallows hard. It shouldn't be so difficult to slow them down, to do this rationally, but it is. It _hurts_ and if the way Steve’s eyes close off at his reaction, he's not the only one feeling the pain.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles and starts to pull away, but Bucky isn't having it.

Catching his shoulder, he stops the Captain and pulls him back. It's too fast and it's not normal, but, “I can't help it, either. This, whatever it is, it's bigger than us.”

Steve searches his face frantically, looking for the same dishonesty that Bucky had been looking for. Then he's in Bucky’s arms, kissing him hard and with a need Bucky isn't sure he can satisfy. Except, he's kissing Steve with the same passion. This isn't them making out, this is a confirmation that they're both alive and _here_ , together. He doesn't know why Steve needs this, but he does and that's enough for now.

Before they take things too far, Bucky pulls back. He holds Steve’s face in his hands and Steve holds on to his waist. They're both smiling goofy grins and Bucky almost gives in, let's them take this to the bedroom. Almost.

“We can at least try to do this right, yeah? A nice date, tomorrow. You know how to dance?”

“Not a clue,” Steve laughs.

“I'll have to show you,” Bucky grins. “Salsa, tango..." He leans close. "Bodies pressed together, moving to the music…”

Steve sucks in a breath and takes a difficult step away. Bucky’s grin widens and the full force looks to stun Steve where he stands. It's been ages since Bucky tried out his charm on someone and it's gratifying to see he hasn't lost his touch.

“So what do you say?” he presses.

Steve’s voice is strangled as he blurts, “You have to ask?”

“No,” Bucky says and it's his turn to laugh, “but I do need to know if my new employee knows anything about cars.”

“That's more Sam’s thing,” Steve confesses.

Guessing Sam is another member of Steve’s team, Bucky ignores the statement.

“Well, guess you just get the job because we're dating,” Bucky says, feigning exasperation.

Steve perks up.

“Dating?”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Bucky says as if that was obvious. “Think I'm gonna let anyone else have a shot at my Knight?”

“ _Your_ Knight?” Steve’s voice squeaks and it's so fucking adorable.

“You're not used to being flirted with, are you?” Bucky guesses.

“I wasn't really popular in High School,” Steve says sheepishly. “Kind of found myself in the Army and I don't exactly have time for dating.”

“Times change,” Bucky says gently, understanding Steve better than ever. “You're gorgeous, Stevie. If I wasn't so terrified we'd fuck this up, I'd eat you alive.”

“Y-you would?” Steve says as a deep flush covers his neck and face. “I thought, thought because of Gabe and what... he did, I don't know, you wouldn't be…”

“Ready?” Bucky supplies and Steve nods sheepishly. “I'm not saying I might not have issues with sex, but I want you so bad it makes my teeth ache. I wanted you before I knew anything about you. You're a walking wet dream, sex on legs, hot-”

Steve surges forward and covers Bucky’s mouth with his hands. The blush has actually spread to his ears. Bucky wonders where else it goes.

“Okay, okay,” Steve insists, “I get the point.”

Bucky peels Steve’s hands away.

“You sure? Because I need you to be aware that this isn't school. You could have any guy you wanted with how you look. You don't have to settle.”

“I'm not settling,” Steve declares. “I want you and maybe that's ‘cause you want me, but that's not a bad thing. I love how you flirt with me.”

“I don't plan to stop,” Bucky assures, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s palm, “but we have to find another way to spend the day or I'm going to end up jumping you before the night's over.”

Though Bucky can see he's tempted, Steve steps back again.

“I have a lot of boardgames,” he says. “Wanna play Battleship?”

“You're joking?” Bucky isn't sure it's a question.

Steve grins and shakes his head.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky shrugs and says, “Battleship it is.”

\----

They spend the afternoon and evening playing board games. It turns out that Steve is crazy about the things and owns dozens, most of which Bucky has never heard of. Battleship is followed by Monopoly, then Operation and Tokaido. They have a blast, laughing and teasing each other even as their mutual competitive streaks come out. Bucky isn't surprised when Steve won most of the games that involved any kind of strategy. He is smart and creative; obviously his promotions had been well earned.

Bucky cooks dinner as it turns out Steve is a terrible cook. The groceries Natasha bought were optimistic in that regard. Steve wouldn’t have known what to do with the chicken breasts and salad materials, not to mention the other supplies. When Bucky asked why she bought it, Steve mumbled something about needing to learn to cook, but by then Bucky had most everything prepared so he made a mental note to teach his Knight at the next meal.

After eating, they watch Johnny Dangerously on Netflix. Steve had never seen it and it was gratifying to see how hard he laughed at some of the scenes. After being in the Army so long, Steve has watched surprisingly few movies. Something Bucky aims to remedy at the earliest opportunity. His own apartment has oodles of DVDs and he makes a mental note to grab his favorites after work tomorrow. 

When it came down to deciding where Bucky was going to sleep, Steve offered to take the couch. Thankfully it didn't take too much persuasion to get him to share the bed. It was Steve’s house and Bucky was imposing so much already. Kicking the man out of his own bed was taking things a step too far.

Without clothes of his own to change into, Bucky shimmied down to his boxers in Steve’s dark bedroom. The dust on the blackout curtains suggest they havn't been opened since first put up, the furniture is garage sale chic, though made of solid wood. An old yellow shirt covers the only lamp, casting everything in dim shadows. It's weird, but when he looked and shot Steve a questioning look, the blonde had just looked away without explaining. Bucky didn't push. Everyone who served had their quirks, some too difficult to explain. 

Sleep was surprisingly easy to find, even with another body warming the bed. Bucky had expected to stare at the ceiling for hours since the last time he'd shared a bed was with Gabe. Sleeping with Steve turned out to be as natural as breathing. They didn't even have to reign in their libidos to do it, either.

It was only a few hours later when Bucky was woken up. Steve, flailing from a nightmare, slammed an elbow into his stomach and knocked most of the wind from his lungs. For a horrible moment, Bucky thinks he's back with Gabe, but then Steve lets out a terrified whimper, bringing Bucky back to reality. Rolling to his side, he finds his bed mate tangled in the sheets, twisting and writhing and thrashing as more whimpers escape between harsh, panting breaths.

“Steve?” he says says hesitantly.

There is no response. If anything, hearing Bucky’s voice makes Steve’s thrashing worse. For the second time, an arm comes swinging in his direction and Bucky has to dodge or end up with another bruise on his face.

“Steve!” Bucky shouts uselessly.

The man is crying out now, his cries and whimpers tearing at Bucky’s heart. He doesn't know what to do, has no reference to handle this kind of situation, but he can't stand the thought of leaving Steve to his demons. Bracing himself to be struck by a flailing limb, Bucky throws himself over Steve’s thrashing body. The man is bigger than him in all ways, bigger than Gabe, but he somehow manages to catch both wrists before they can do any damage. Steve continues to thrash beneath him and Bucky winds up straddling the trim waist, pinning the straining wrists by his ears.

“ _Steve_!” Bucky shouts right into the man's face. “Steve, wake _up_!”

With a jerk of his entire body, Steve comes to. Blue eyes are wild and terrified, still not sure of the difference between dreams and waking. He is aware of Bucky above him, not as a person, but as an attacker holding him down.

“Steve, it-” Bucky attempts to speak, but the nightmare has Steve in its clutches.

With a roar and a surge of pure strength, he jerks his hips and rolls, trying to throw Bucky off. Desperate not to get his head smashed into a dresser, Bucky tucks himself tight to Steve, wrapping his arms about his neck and locking his knees about Steve’s hips. As they roll off the bed, the hug keeps him from getting knocked unconscious by the bed side table, but Steve lands hard on his chest.

Air rushes from Bucky’s lungs, but his training kicks in and he locks his knees in place. It's still enough room for Steve to sit up and draw back his arm for a blow that can't be any kinder than Gabe’s. Steve doesn't recognize him, he won't pull his punches. Lunging forward, Bucky does the only thing he can think of. He hooks his hands under Steve’s armpits and pulls as hard as he can. Already commited to the swing, there's no way to stop himself falling forward and cracking his head against the same dresser he had tried to use against Bucky.

The fight goes out of him at once and Bucky scrambles away, across the room, to hover near the door. Steve _is_ awake now, so he doesn't think he has to run, but it's better safe than sorry.

“Steve?” Bucky says tentatively. “Um, you okay?”

Steve doesn't move, holding his head with both hands while kneeling on the soft green carpet.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, voice raw and broken.

“What?” Bucky asks in confusion. Tentatively, he walks closer. “I'm fine. You're the one whose head was slammed into a dresser.”

“I attacked you,” Steve says like that's somehow an argument.

Bucky snorts, kneeling at the blonde’s side and laying a hand on his shoulder. Steve doesn't resist as Bucky eases him until he's leaning against the bed frame. He doesn't pull his hands from his face, so Bucky takes both wrists and pulls them down, wrapping his hands about Steve’s so he can't hide again.

“I pinned you to your bed and screamed at you,” Bucky says gently. “If anything, I was asking for it. It's not like I don't know what you do for a living.”

“I'm supposed to be protecting you,” Steve protests, expression agonized, “not putting you in danger.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Did I, or did I not, just kick your ass, Cap?”

That makes Steve stop to think. Bucky smiles and let's go of one hand so Steve can press it to the knot that must be forming under his hair. He gives Buck a speculative look.

“You did,” he finally agrees, “and you don't have a scratch.”

“I did have the upper hand,” Bucky says modestly.

Steve tucks Bucky’s long bangs back behind his ears. Shivers race down his spine, but Steve still has that serious look in his eyes so he doesn't lean in for a kiss.

“So, Sergeant, how is it Gabe can get the better of you? It's not because you're weak, it's not because you're untrained, so what hold does he have on you? From where I'm sitting, you should be able to at least hold your own with his stupid ass.”

Part of Bucky is relieved that Steve can see he's not a pushover. Most people find out he's a victim of domestic abuse and equate that to weakness. Bucky isn't _weak_ , not in the general sense of things, but when it comes to Gabe he's petrified. Admitting it to anyone, even himself, is shameful. A marine would never be so pathetic to succumb to his own terror.

“Bed?” Steve asks, not pushing for Bucky to answer immediately. He nods and they fix the blankets and pillows before climbing back in. This time Steve doesn't go to his side and Bucky to his own. Steve pulls him into his arms, holds Bucky against his broad chest in silence and darkness. He let's Bucky come to the story in his own time. It's a relief; he never would have been able to tell the truth otherwise.

“I met Gabe the year I opened my business. He was _hot_ and he knew it. I liked that, liked his confidence, which I couldn't see was really arrogance. When he asked me out, I tripped over myself to say yes and it was good.” Bucky takes a deep breath. “Except he didn't like any of my friends and he didn't like the bar I went to that the guys I served with frequented. He didn't like how I dressed, or the long hours I could spend working. Sometimes I'd get this glimpse of the real Gabe, flashes of temper, or rage, but he'd always cover it up, make it up to me, and I would tell myself I was overeating. It wasn't... It wasn't as bad as I was making it out to be.”

Steve’s hands ghost over his shoulder and arm, tingling and grounding Bucky in the moment.

“It didn't get _bad_ until I moved in with him. He started accusing me of stepping out on him. Any guy who looked twice at me meant we were fucking and God forbid I look twice at another man. That was... That was how it started, really. I sold this sexy ‘73 Camaro, midnight blue, to this guy who could even give _you_ a run for his money,” Steve laughed, making Bucky smile a little, “and after the guy left, Gabe lost it. Grabbed a pipe and-”

Bucky closes his eyes tightly, unable to put into words what came next. How Gabe had screamed at him, refused to listen to reason. He'd been alone in the shop, no one to help. No one to _see_.

“He dislocated my knee,” Bucky says roughly. Steve’s arms tighten about him and it helps. “I didn't think he'd actually- And then it was over and he was so sorry, so apologetic. Swore he'd never do it again and I... I just wanted to believe it so _bad_. I didn't want to believe that I was…”

“A victim,” Steve supplies gently when Bucky can't. 

“Yeah. Then a few weeks later it's the same song and dance. Hot customer and he broke my arm twisting it behind my back. I didn't fight back, I didn't want to hurt _him_ , and he promised- Then next time... God, the next time I was just so terrified. I couldn't; I barely got my hands up to protect myself. I couldn't believe this was me, my life, and he was screaming that I deserved it and I thought... I thought…”

“Maybe he was right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispers.

“You know you didn't.”

“I know,” Bucky sighs deeply, “but at the time I couldn't think clearly at all. Then when I saw him today, I just... I just froze. That's why I'm telling you this because it'll happen again and again-”

“I'm glad you're not scared of me,” Steve interrupts Bucky’s growing panic.

Smiling against Steve’s skin, Bucky shakes his head.

“No and I know how much it would hurt you if you hurt me on accident. I'll protect myself when it happens again.”

“I wish I could tell you there won't be another time,” Steve says, dejected.

Bucky sits up, Steve’s arms sliding down to wrap about his waist.

“That's why you're on medical leave, isn't it?”

Though he shuts his eyes, Steve nods.

“Hey,” Bucky says gently. Steve’s eyes open and Bucky gives his best smile. “You're not alone with this, okay? I'll be here to pull you out of every dream and kick your ass whenever I have to. Least I can do for my own, personal Knight.”

The smile that spreads over Steve’s face is beautiful to behold.

“Guess that makes you my guardian angel.”

“In that case, your guardian angel thinks what's best for you is to rest.”

Intending to go back to his side of the bed, Steve stops Bucky by tightening his arm.

“Stay?” he asks. It's so hesitant and uncertain it nearly breaks Bucky’s heart all over again.

“All you gotta do is ask, Stevie,” Bucky promises.

Steve smiles, grinning wider as Bucky settles back against his chest. This time, it's even easier for Bucky to get to sleep.


	3. Beginning of the End

Bucky wakes with Steve wrapped around him. It’s warm and utterly adorable. The skilled, strong, and powerful man is a marshmallow inside. So alike and unlike Gabe it’s a bit dizzying. They have the same build, the same firm muscles that Bucky lets his palm explore beneath Steve’s shirt. They’re both blonde, though Gabe’s muddy brown eyes have nothing on Steve’s gorgeous blues. Gabe doesn’t blush and he never held Bucky like this, not even after sex. He wouldn’t have wanted to wait and he sure as hell never would have helped a stranger.

There is no doubt Steve has demons, the kind that wake him screaming and fighting for his life, but Bucky is under no illusion that Steve’s perfect. He’s a man, just like any other, but a good man. A man Bucky wants to know, not just intimately, but personally. He wants to meet Sam and Tony, get to know Natasha. Find out about the shirt over the lamp and why Steve doesn’t date. This isn’t like what he had with Gabe, Bucky realizes, because it isn’t only about sex.

Steve’s hand covers Bucky’s and the SGF Captain murmurs, “Morning. Coffee?”

“Asking or telling?” Bucky clarifies.

“Little a’both,” Steve chuckles. 

Chuckling as well, Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s jaw and earns a hum of approval.

“I’ll go make you some coffee,” Bucky assures.

“Oh, be still my heart,” Steve gasps dramatically as Bucky crawls over him. “He is an angel!”

“That was not at all Shakespere,” Bucky grumbles.

Behind him, Steve just laughs.

“I’ll grab the first shower!” he calls, since Bucky is already in the hallway. 

In the kitchen, Bucky puts the pot on and starts breakfast. The coffee is just about done percolating when strong arms wrap around his bare middle. For a heartbeat he tenses, before leaning back into the embrace, smiling as Steve tucks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Guy could get used to this,” he rumbles.

Bucky shivers. So could he. Yeah, moving way too fast and he doesn’t want to stop for a second. Either they’d flame out, crash and burn, or they’d burn wild, without an end in sight, like a coal fire. He honestly wants it to be the later. Risks and rewards and all that.

“You smell good,” Bucky says with approval. 

“First day of work,” Steve quips. "Gotta impress the boss.”

“Oh, consider him impressed." Bucky laughs. “It’s all those muscles and that smile.” He turns his head, nosing against Steve’s cheek. “And the cuddles. Gold star cuddles, those.”

Steve laughs, turning to brush their lips together before stepping back. 

“Coffee looks to be done,” he says, cheeks pink. “Want a cup?”

“Black, thanks,” Bucky answers, grinning cheerily. “Table and I’ll dish us up some grub.”

Plating the eggs, bacon and toast, Bucky carries it to the table and sits at Steve’s side. They eat in quiet, ankles hooked together. They don’t speak much more the rest of the morning, but they’re always touching. Hands, shoulders, hips, knees, fingertips against arms, and palms against backs. Unless one strays to another room, they are always in contact. Bumping hips and laughing, slapping shoulders and grinning, kissing slowly after dressing.

When they step outside, it’s like a spell brakes.

“You want to run home, get a change of clothes?” Steve asks.

“After work,” Bucky answers as Steve locks the door. “I’m just gonna get filthy anyways. Then we can swing by my place before heading on that date you promised me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Steve smiles like sunshine, “Thought you said you wouldn’t be up to eating?”

Glancing down, Bucky smiles slightly.

“Feel safe around you,” he admits. “I’m… Look, I know you’re not infallible, and I know shit can go sideways faster than you can blink, but you calm me. I’d be a mess on my own.”

Stepping close, Steve answers by sliding his palm along Bucky’s jaw and tipping his head back for a slow, open mouthed, passionate kiss. It leaves Bucky’s knees weak, eyes closed and butterflies erupting in his stomach. It’s not just Gabe; Bucky doesn’t think he’s felt like this about anyone. Ever. God, he hopes he’s not alone in that.

Steve’s hand slides into his own and he pulls Bucky down the steps. The motorcycle under one of the covered stalls is not the ride Bucky expects, but it’s fucking gorgeous. He’s a car guy himself, but he can appreciate a nice Harley. All sleek chrome, blue and white lines, and real leather seats. It looks to be about as old as his baby, but he could be wrong. He’ll have to do some research.

“You work on this yourself?” Bucky asks. 

“With my dad, originally. He gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday and I've kept her in top shape since.”

Bucky scowls.

“You told me you don't know cars.” 

“I don't. I know bikes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, telling Steve exactly what he thinks of that distinction.

“Ever ridden before?” Steve asks.

“Nope, but I think I can figure it out,” Bucky laughs. 

Steve swings a leg over the bike and Bucky follows suit, sliding up closer and tighter, wrapping his arms around Steve’s stomach. The SFG Captain tenses, glancing back with wide eyes as he hands Bucky a helmet. It sends pleasurable shivers down Bucky’s spine to get a reaction like that. It's ridiculous that no one’s given Steve any proper attention, but Bucky enjoys getting that wide eyed surprise flashed his way.

“Just hold tight, right?” Bucky purrs.

“Yeah, just…” Steve clears his throat and turns back around, jamming his helmet on. “Yeah.”

Grinning like a loon, Bucky jams the helmet on and Steve takes off. They’re at the shop in no time, since they aren’t walking this time. He lets them in, rolls up the garage doors and has Steve bring in both his truck and the bike as he changes into some coveralls. It’s gonna take some time to get a new window in for his baby, but he doesn’t want it on the street any more.

The other garage stall is filled with a silver, ‘64 Ford Thunderbird Bucky’s nearly finished. It’s already got a buyer, just needs a little more elbow grease and Bucky will earn himself a cool thirty grand. The sale is one of his better profits and he’s honestly proud. Within a few minutes he’s able to lose himself in the work, though he does leave the garage doors down instead of open and inviting as he normally does.

Steve spends the hours Bucky’s on his back, underneath the lifted Thunderbird, roaming the garage. They order in lunch, eat, and Steve rolls up a stool near the front tire and just talks. Conversation is easy, about nothing and everything and it’s so soothing, Bucky didn’t realize he was tense until it’s falling from his shoulders. Steve, he thinks, could be good for him. He highly doubts he’s as good for Steve, what with his murderous ex running about, but the man's an adult and can make his own decisions. Bucky’s selfish enough to let him make this one.

They’re talking about Bucky’s favorite movies when the attack comes. Steve gets up to use the bathroom while Bucky tinkers with the Thunderbird’s breaks. A few minutes later, he hears footsteps approaching the car. Pushing against the undercarriage, he rolls himself out with a question on his lips of whether Steve likes comedy over action and the Thunderbird crashes to the concrete. Bucky's sitting up as it happens and just stares, dumbly, at the steel that would have killed him. Would have _crushed_ him, if he hadn't had the desire to see Steve's face. 

Bucky's still staring at the Thunderbird in shock and doesn’t clock the wrench swinging at his face until it’s too late. Just a flash of steel and Bucky lifts his arm in time so the metal connects with his forearm and not his face. Something _cracks_ , Bucky shouts, throwing himself back, trying to scramble away. More blows connect with his thigh, once, twice, and he’s sure something’s broken in his leg, too. The pain is overwhelming, throbbing though his arm and leg. 

And he knows Gabe’s barely built up steam.

Then it stops and Bucky opens his eyes to find the muzzle of a revolver pointed between his eyes.

“I know you’re back there!” Gabe shouts, not even looking at Bucky, but at the back of the shop. “Come out, or I’ll kill ‘im now!”

The loudest sound in the shop is Bucky’s breathing for several, long seconds. Bucky stares at the gun, glances up to Gabe’s red face, then back to the gun again. He hopes Steve will leave, just go and get help, because otherwise they’re both dead. That look in Gabe’s eyes is one he knows intimately and it always meant the worst kinds of pain.

With a low creak, the door to the back swings open and Steve steps through. Bucky can only see his feet, but his heart sinks. He prays that Steve, a Special Forces Captain for Christ’s sake, is at least smart enough to keep his gun. It’s still the end for Bucky, but at least Steve can make sure Gabe doesn’t hurt anyone else. And there’s no doubt it’s the end. Gabe finally snapped. The beating wasn’t good enough. He had to make his point, that Bucky was _his_. Except he isn’t. He never was, no matter how badly Gabe wants it to be true, it just isn’t. For a little while, he thought he might be able to say he was Steve’s, but now…

“Mr. Turner, right?” Steve says from the other side of the Thunderbird. “Let’s talk about this, okay? No one needs to get hurt.”

Gabe laughs, eyes wide, wild and manic. The revolver trembles in his hands and Bucky flinches.

“Don’t you tell me how to handle my boyfriend.”

“No one’s telling you how to do anything,” Steve says quickly, his voice low and soothing. Bucky wants to scream at him not to bother, to run, but he’s pretty sure Gabe will shoot him for it. “You’re in charge here, Mr. Turner.”

“That’s right, that’s right,” Gabe says, shifting from foot to foot, adjusting his grip on the revolver’s grip, “I’m in charge. Now put your gun down.”

“I can’t do that, Mr. Turner,” Steve says in that same even, calm voice.

“Put it down or I kill him!”

“If I put it down, you’ll just kill us both,” Steve points out. “Let’s talk, okay? You’ve been chasing Bucky a long time, haven’t you?”

“James,” Gabe corrects, “fucking cheating whore,” and he actually sounds like he’s tearing up. “I gave him everything he’d ever wanted and he just keeps trying to run. Not again. I’m taking him home, or I’ll kill him, but he’s _mine_ , muscles! You can’t have him! No one can have him!”

“I ain’t yours!” Bucky shouts.

With a howl of rage, Gabe launches a kick at Bucky’s face. It connects with his jaw and new fire erupts in his face. Bucky rolls, trying to defuse some of the momentum, off the backboard and onto the cool garage concrete floor and onto his arm. He cries out as agony zips up and down from his fingers, to his elbow, to his shoulder.

“Bucky?!” Steve shouts. “Buck, Jesus -”

“He’s mine!” Gabe shouts back. “James is mine!”

“Okay, okay!” Steve concedes. “Mr. Turner, okay. No one’s gonna take him from you.”

Bucky can’t stop the sob that pulls from his chest. It hits him that he almost died. Gabe almost killed him, dropped a fucking classic on him. Eventually, he _will_ kill Bucky, but not before he makes Bucky suffer first. Bucky’s known it - always known it - and he can’t go back. He won’t. Not ever again. Not even if it kills him. He won’t. 

Beneath him, Bucky’s uninjured hand closes over the socket wrench he’d been using before Gabe tried to drop a car on him. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying, is all,” Gabe is saying to Steve, “He loves me. Don’t you, James?” The son of bitch kneels, tugging at Bucky’s broken arm, making him sob as he rolls onto his side. The revolver presses to his temple, cool as the concrete beneath him. “Tell me you love me, James. I still love you. I’ll always love you, baby.”

“Mr. Turner…” Steve is saying.

Bucky licks his lips.

“Go to hell,” he says through gritted teeth.

Rage flashes through Gabe’s eyes, he lifts his hand to strike Bucky again, but Bucky is faster. Yanking his uninjured arm from beneath him, he swings the socket wrench at Gabe’s face. It connects, Gabe shouts, and two guns go off at once.

Ears ringing, Bucky waits for the pain to blossom. Except it doesn’t come. Oh, there’s pain - his arm, jaw and leg - but no _new_ pain. If he was shot, surely it would hurt? Or is he in shock? Could it not hurt to die? He’s pretty sure it hurts. He’s killed enough people to be sure of that.

Something thumps to the ground on Bucky’s left and then there are footsteps running towards him. Tentatively, Bucky lowers his arms to see Gabe on his side, black eyes dead and bugging out of his head, mouth agape in a soundless scream as blood pools around his head. Recoiling, Bucky forces his throbbing leg to push him away from the bloody asshole.

“Bucky? Bucky, Jesus, are you okay?”

Steve is there a moment later, arms wrapping around him and Bucky turns to him immediately, burrowing into his chest. Though he doesn’t answer, Steve holds him tight. There’s no gun in his hand, so he must have holstered it again. Bucky doesn’t care; it’s peripheral knowledge that his brain simply refuses to ignore. Training does that to you.

“Baby, you’re shaking,” Steve gently pulls back, reaches for his jaw and Bucky recoils again. Beautiful blue eyes widen in horror and Steve freezes. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Buck. I’m not -”

Bucky shakes his head, reaching towards his jaw, but pulling back before touching it. Gabe has broke his jaw before and Bucky knows better than to try talking, though he’s only mostly sure it’s broken now. Still, Steve doesn’t understand so he takes the hand frozen between them and puts it on the back of his neck. Confusion takes the look of horror and that’s better, so Bucky smiles tightly.

“I shouldn’t have left you,” Steve leans their foreheads together. “I…”

Bucky covers Steve’s mouth with his hand and that stops the guilty words. Before he can assure him, though, sirens begin to whoop down the street. Steve stiffens, but pulls Bucky back to his chest. It’s the safest place Bucky thinks he’s ever been, which only makes it harder to keep from sobbing into Steve’s shirt.

Steve murmurs into Bucky’s hair, “I gotta go outside, let them know we’re in here. Get you an ambulance.”

“No,” Bucky demands, voice shaking as much as the rest of him. The rational part of him knows Steve is right, but the rest of him doesn’t care. Even with what he thinks is a broken arm and jaw he doesn’t want Steve to leave him. Instead, he fumbles into his coveralls for his phone and pushes it, hands shaking so hard he nearly drops it, into Steve’s chest.

Though he rolls his eyes, Steve takes it and dials nine, one, one. Bucky doesn’t listen to his conversation with the operator, but minutes later officers are breaking down his front door and rushing into the building. On the one hand, he knows he should be paying attention to the officers, but all Bucky can think about is that these people will take Steve from him. Gabe might be dead, but Bucky can’t lose Steve. Not now.

The grip Bucky has on Steve has to be painful, but the Army Captain doesn’t complain. He rubs Bucky’s back, hands over his gun, and talks to several officers. Bucky only pays attention when he hears one say they’ll have to arrest Steve until a full investigation can be completed.

“There’s security footage,” Bucky says through clenched teeth, the first words he’s said to anyone since he clocked Gabe in the face.

“You wanna show us now?” one of the officers asks, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Bucky glances at him, then again at Steve who nods encouragingly. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he nods. It takes a moment to get to his feet. His leg isn’t broken, but it’s bruised badly enough the muscle doesn’t want to function and it’s with a pronounced limp that he leads Steve and a few officers into his office and pulls up the security footage on his computer. It’s all there, Gabe sneaking in the back, kicking the jack from under the Thunderbird. 

Having moved up behind him, Steve tightens his arm around Bucky’s waist as he watches, pressing close to Bucky's back. Bucky’s happy to lean back into him, but turns away instead of watching the rest. He doesn’t need to see Gabe beating him. He lived it.

“Can I take him to the hospital, now?” Steve asks after several more moments silence. Bucky assumes the video is over.

“If we have permission to get a copy of this and Mr…”

“Barnes,” Steve supplies.

“I think this is sufficient evidence to clear you both of any wrongdoing.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. Though he glances at Steve, he looks down at the footage as Steve rushes to him on the floor. Gabe is dead there; he’s dead in the garage. For the first time in years, Bucky can stop looking over his shoulder and really have a life. Maybe be able to be the guy Steve comes home to after a mission. Maybe get a dog.

“Paramedics are here,” an officer says from the doorway. 

Wordlessly, Bucky waves the other cops toward his computer and lets Steve lead him back into the waiting room. A man and woman are there, both dressed in pressed EMT uniforms, and looking uncomfortable until the officer who announced them calls them over. Given purpose, the woman - blonde, like Steve - steps forward.

“Hey, there,” she says with a sweet smile and a soft, Southern accent. “You boys alright?”

“I’m fine,” Steve says, “I don’t know how bad he’s hurt, though. Let the lady take a look, Buck.”

Honestly, it hurt more last time, but she winces even as her eyes flick over Bucky’s jaw and the growing bruise critically. There’s no pity and for that Bucky is grateful. His eyes are still red and he wants nothing more than to just have Steve take him home.

“Jeeze,” the woman says, “that looks like it hurts. Think you can open your mouth?”

Bucky shakes his head.

“S’broke,” he says through his teeth. “Arm, too.”

“Oh,” Steve said, voice small and Bucky squeezes his hand.

“We’re gonna need to take this one to the hospital,” the paramedic says to the officer.

“That’s fine,” the man says, looking almost eager to get them out of his crime scene.

“Come on,” Steve gently urges him forward and Bucky goes. 

At the back of the ambulance, the male paramedic helps Bucky inside and starts looking at his arm. The woman goes to close the door and Bucky panics. Jerking away from the EMT, feeling pathetic because he just can’t keep it together on his own, he holds his good arm out to Steve even as pain flares moving his arm like that. Steve, looking helpless, looks at the paramedic instead of going to Bucky.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Steve says, blue eyes lost as the man shakes his head, denying Steve entry.

“Steve,” Bucky protests, breath catching in his chest.

“Buck, hey,” Steve catches his hand and squeezes, “right behind you, okay? We’re gonna need a way to get you home again anyways.”

It’s a stupid argument, since Bucky’s going to get his jaw wired, arm cast, and there’s no way he’s riding a bike back to Steve’s apartment. Unless Steve is done with him. It’s not like Bucky needs rescuing anymore. 

Reluctantly, Bucky releases Steve’s hand and sits back. The paramedics close the ambulance doors, but Bucky looks for as long as he can at Steve as he turns and walks away. Bucky prays it’s toward his bike to follow them, and not to disappear from Bucky’s life forever.


	4. Beginning Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blinks owlishly* Holy crap, I finished it.
> 
> *shakes fist* Take that haters!
> 
> To the few of you who have stuck with this story, you're amazing. Thank you for your encouragement and support <33333

Unless someone asks him a question, Bucky stays quiet. They’ve got him on morphine now, so there’s pain, but he doesn’t much care. He thinks he should care, so he tries to pay attention to it, but it’s hard to think about anything, really. Which is a relief since he hasn’t seen hide, nor hair, of Steve Rogers and, if he could think, he’d have spent the entire time thinking Steve was done with his good deed.

It’s not until after his jaw is wired and his arm cast that Bucky’s chance to begin again pushes through the curtains. Bucky’s so high that he would have missed him if Steve weren’t over six feet tall, towering over everyone else there. Though he’s red eyed and rumpled, Steve is beautiful and Bucky lights up at the sight. It would be better if it didn’t hurt so much to smile, but Bucky will take Steve pain or no pain. The guy is -

“He never thought I was funny.” Blinking in confusion, Steve side steps the nurses and comes to Bucky’s side. The words were garbled, but Bucky’s sure they were clear enough. Yet, Steve looks like he spoke a foreign language, so Bucky says it again, “He never thought I was funny.” 

“Who, Bucky?” Steve asks, taking the hand Bucky hadn’t noticed he was holding out to Steve. Thankfully it’s the one not in a cast as that’s still a bit goopy.

“Gabe,” Bucky slurs through the wire in his mouth, trying to make the words crisp and clear. “He never thought I was funny.” Steve’s eyebrows draw together and Bucky can see he doesn’t understand. “You think I’m funny. I shouldn’t think it’s strange. He -”

“Mr. Barnes,” the nurse he thinks is named Jackie scolds, “you really shouldn’t be talking.”

Waving her off, Bucky completely disagrees. Steve needs to know this. The thing that drew them together is gone and Bucky’s not sure what they have, or if they have anything. What he knows is he doesn’t want to lose Steve. He doesn’t want to lose the man who made him think he could be a person again. It’s a risk, but Steve is the best scary decision Bucky’s ever made.

“He made me think that.” Bucky watches Steve’s blue eyes soften and he tightens his hold - at least, he tries to. “You think I’m funny.”

“Yeah, baby,” Steve murmurs, “I do. So you can rest now.”

Bucky shakes his head, sliding the few inches closer to Steve the hospital bed allows.

“No,” Bucky grunts, “I thought love was just something that breaks and hurts. You showed me… that the past is past. And I wanna… I wanna wait for you to come home from deployment and make sure you have all your groceries and get you on active duty again. I wanna try and I want a dog.”

Steve snorts and it’s horrible and gorgeous.

“A dog?”

Groggily Bucky nods, sending the world spinning for a heartbeat before it rights itself.

“A big dog.”

“Okay,” Steve says, smiling slow and beautiful, “a big dog.”

“I think I love you,” Bucky mumbles and watches Steve’s entire being light up like a star, or a firework, or something else beautiful and bright and sparkling.

“I know I love you,” Steve murmurs and he’s leaning in for a kiss when Bucky remembers his fucking jaw is broken and that’s a terrible idea.

“Kisses gonna have to wait,” the nurse says sternly and Steve darts away from Bucky like he’s been shocked.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

Bucky grins. His boyfriend is blushing at a nurse, holding his hand, and he’s free. He’s finally free.

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on Tumblr ](http://cleo4u2.tumblr.com/)


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